Tim Drake oneshots

Our Own Way

Title: "Our Own Way"

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Tim Drake leaned back in his chair at the Justice League meeting room, his calm demeanor belying the chaos behind him. The hologram screen displayed a map riddled with red markers: their latest Young Justice mission. He crossed his arms, glancing at the senior heroes gathered around the table, each face a mask of concern, anger, or disbelief. Batman's eyes narrowed at his protégée, while Wonder Woman's brow creased with worry. Superman shifted in his seat, unable to reconcile the words coming from Tim with the young hero he’d known.

Tim was unfazed.

"So, to summarize," he said evenly, "we successfully infiltrated the enemy's stronghold, neutralized the lead operatives, and extracted the stolen data." He paused for a beat. "Casualties on their side were minimal. Non-lethal force was used wherever possible. But we made sure they wouldn't get back up too quickly either."

There was a beat of stunned silence.

"You… maimed them?" Superman’s voice was tight, a mixture of shock and disapproval.

Tim’s gaze didn’t waver. "A few broken limbs, nothing that won’t heal in time," he replied, his tone casual. "It's not like we went in guns blazing. We assessed the threat and neutralized it as efficiently as possible. Would you have preferred if we’d let them continue manufacturing weapons that target metahumans?"

Wonder Woman leaned forward, her expression one of pained disbelief. "Tim, we train you to save lives, not to—"

"Not to what?" Tim interjected, his voice low and cutting. "Not to do what needs to be done to get the mission accomplished? Because, correct me if I’m wrong, but the League has been pretty comfortable letting us handle things ‘our own way’ for a while now. No supervision, no oversight." He tilted his head. "You didn’t seem to mind when we were getting results."

Batman finally spoke, his tone cold. "There’s a line, Red Robin."

Tim met his mentor’s glare, unflinching. "Funny you should say that, considering I’ve seen how blurry your line gets in the field. I wonder, is it really a line… or is it just a suggestion when you cross it?"

The silence that followed was suffocating, tension wrapping around the room like a vise. Tim kept his expression neutral, but there was a faint, challenging edge to his gaze that wasn’t there before.

Aquaman’s voice was calm, but the undercurrent of disapproval was clear. "We hold ourselves to a higher standard. We don’t fight like our enemies."

"No," Tim said, voice firm, "we fight smarter. You sent us in to do a job, to deal with a threat that the League was too busy or unwilling to handle. We did what you couldn’t… or wouldn’t. The difference is, we got our hands dirty so yours could stay clean."

Wonder Woman’s voice was laced with a mix of sadness and disappointment. "Tim, that’s not what being a hero is about. If you have to sacrifice your values—"

"I didn’t sacrifice my values," Tim shot back. "I protected people. I protected my team. I did what needed to be done to make sure they came back alive." His voice softened slightly, but there was still a hard edge to it. "If that’s not good enough for you, maybe you should have been clearer on where exactly that ‘higher standard’ is supposed to lie."

The room was still, the members of the Justice League exchanging uneasy glances. They had expected a progress report from a young hero, a prodigy in the making who followed their example. Instead, they had been confronted by a tactician who did not see the world in black and white, but in shades of grey—a leader who had made the hard calls in the field and did not apologize for it.

Tim stood up and turned toward the door. "If you have any more questions about the mission," he said over his shoulder, "feel free to call. But we’re going to keep doing our job. Just like you wanted."

And with that, he walked out, leaving the Justice League with the uncomfortable realization that they might not be ready for what they’d shaped Young Justice to become.